Love, Lies and Claustrophobia
by CercandoUnaVoce
Summary: After Street and Chris kissed, their relationship cracked. Irreparably Chris keeps saying. Day after day, Street tries to win her back, and day after day, she turns him down. But when they find themselves trapped with anything else to do but wait for their teammates to rescue them and not only their friendship needing stitches, secrets and hidden feelings come to the surface.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's note:_**_ Despite my reservations on Chris and Street's love relationship, this story came to me after re-watching their kiss scene and would not leave me alone till I wrote it down. So romance it is, and with no more unnecessary delays, I hope you enjoy the reading._

* * *

**Love, Lies and Claustrophobia**

* * *

An unnatural silence surrounded Chris and Street as they took the motorway. The LA summer gave its best with long, sunny days and clear skies that amplified the irresistible siren call of the ocean. Maybe it was even too sunny those days. If only their thoughts had been expressed out loud, they would agree that a couple of drizzles or a quick, light rainstorm would not be such bad things to avert the fearsome forest fires in the surroundings.

Where it surely would not burst any kind of fire was in the two cops' car. Surprisingly, Street's arm hair stood up, hence he adjusted the AC's settings. Nothing changed. Not that he expected to, although, he knew way too well that the air conditioning was not the reason of the frost he felt. That uncomfortable sensation came directly from his heart.

No, that was not entirely true. That ice came from his partner's heart in the first place. From his deadly silent partner sitting at his right.

The noise of the engine ringed in the car. Chris' tanned face reflected in the review mirror, but she wasn't the slightest bit interested in looking back at Street. Her eyes glued to the road ahead, her expression was deadly serious.

Even if not a cloud was in the sky, a storm raged in Street's heart. His sun started to fade that infamous night, when he made the decision to not show up at the gala. As half drunk and beaten up for the failure in his mother's search as he was, when Chris showed up at Luca's place she seemed godsend. Then, when the bottle in their hands was empty and alcohol more than blood flowed in their veins, that heartwarming hug connected their bodies in such a comfortable way he didn't want it to end.

Street trusted Chris with everything he had. For some reason, he had confided in her since the very first day they met, so why don't show her his true self then? The instant he sensed those good vibes coming from her too, he gave in to his instinct.

As for the third strike of the evening, he abandoned himself to that so much desired kiss. And she abandoned herself to him too. But then... Who could predict what would have happened next between the two them? For sure, Street didn't expect Chris' reaction.

That cursed kiss, as tempting and warm it was when it happened as motive of regret and heart freezing it was the moment after. He had read such a reaction in her dark eyes. But at that moment, it felt too natural to resist.

Chris laid her forehead on Street's; their eyes locked; their noses grazed. Her lips reached out for his, and he couldn't think other than make it happen. The moment their lips made contact, all his problems were gone, it was all about her. It was his heart beating for her and only her.

Chris kissed him back so ardently that made Street's heart melt and his desire grow. She was in, she felt the same, and he could be sure of that.

And then that cold shower hit Street violently, Chris retracted from his gentle grasp. The look of regret and shame labeled her suddenly pale face. The moment their bodies detached from each other, shock took posses of her, and she became icy in an instant.

Street froze too, and tried to apologize for the heat of the moment, but Chris run away and left him alone, heartbroken and confused. He thought she was in, was it possible he was so drunk he misread his best friend?

That reaction was mind-blowing. Drunk or not, Street knew from the depths of his heart he had not imagined that wave of love and care that crossed them when he grazed Chris' skin and kept her tied to him.  
Was it really possible he misunderstood her signals? Street kept asking himself. Was it really possible Chris felt he took advantage of her vulnerable state? But what she probably didn't take into account was that in that moment he was even more vulnerable than her.

Sobered up, Street was ready to apologize again, to swallow his pride and his love and bury all those strong feelings deep down in the bottom of his heart in favor of their friendship. That same friendship that took him above the water level when no one else was there to throw him a life belt. Chris was too important for him to let their bond broke for that stupid mistake. That bond was like oxygen in his lungs, without it, he felt he would suffocate.

But Chris slammed that door in his face; she trampled on his heart over and over. Street never felt more alone in his whole life, and he knew loneliness very well, that was out of the question.

A few, interminable weeks had passed from that ominous night. In the meantime, Street had tried everything he could to gain that friendship back without appearing too suspicious to his other teammates. What was even worse in that whole situation was that he was broken and could not tell anyone about it.

With that kiss, Street hadn't only lost his best friend, he risked to lose his entire family. If the rest of the team knew about what happen between him and Chris, they would surely blame him. And maybe it was all his fault indeed, but in that moment, the vibrations coming from her were real. Those feelings were real, he could swear it and didn't know how she could deny all that.

For a few days now, his friends had started to question the change in attitude the two of them had toward each other. "Nothing changed," they kept repeating, but they all knew it was not true.

Fortunately, the guys were all too busy with their own lives to investigate further in theirs. Hondo had to take care of the injured and hurt Darryl; Deacon had his wife and his four children to think about; Tan was preparing the next step with Bonny; Luca was all focused on helping Kelly and even had the bonus of starting to better know her mother. And for Chris, she had to deal with the new living situation with Ty and Kira, a place he himself pushed her into. The team could easily blame her odd behavior to that.

But what about Street? He had finally found a real family after growing up bounced from foster home to foster home, and suddenly, he had no one to talk to. No one to lay on. He could not vent about his broken relationship with Chris, nor about the whole thing with his mother.

That, the impossible situation with his mom, had been the final blow to him. Finding her in those poor conditions, dosed and delirious, made Street's heart crack and then broke into little pieces. He had to send her back to prison, and he had to make that decision on his own. He was left alone to deal with the look she gave him when she acknowledged he betrayed her again. Yes, again. Like 18 years ago when 12 years old him decided he needed to tell the truth to Buck and made her arrested in the first place.

Now, he didn't have the chance to talk about any of that with any of his friends, even though the situation that had created was a weight his soul could not carry alone. And that load on Street's soul could only increase during that endless and awkward ride with his former best friend in that hot, suffocating summer day.

_**. . .**_

The atmosphere in the car was thick. Chris deeply inhaled the humid air that carried with it her partner's comforting scent. For a few seconds, she held her breath, jealously guarding the pleasant memories that smell carried with it.

_Why did Street set the air conditioning that low?_ she asked herself, fighting the impulse of reaching her hand out and regulate the thing on her desire.

Chris could barely stand her own silence now; the sound of her heart regularly beating reverberated in her chest while a million thoughts filled her mind. She forced herself to keep her look on the road ahead, but secretly, her eyes continued to shift to her side. Every time the tail of her eye detected a distracted Street, she stole him a glance.

Her will was not demonstrating as strong as she thought it was. In her heart, the need of having her best friend back made its voice heard so loud that not give up to it was challenging.

In that stillness, hypnotized from the appearing of the asphalt equal everywhere, Chris' mind started to wander, and suddenly, she was in the SWAT kitchen, alone with Street.

_"I will do anything to gain your trust back," he said._

_I trust you with my soul, she thought. "I trust you with my life on the job, but other than that, the door is closed," she said instead, while a sharp pain squeezed the pit of her stomach ._

_"I will never, ever do something to intentionally hurt you, Chris, believe me," Street insisted. His eyes cried for forgiveness, something he should not even have to ask in the first place. "I promise that what happened that night will never happen again, but I can't lose you like this."_

_I don't want to lose you either! she thought, but once again her mouth transmitted the opposite message. "What is done is done. And you can't lose something you never had."_

_The look on Street's face then was something that left an eternal mark on her soul. Standing a few feet from him, Chris could practically hear his heart scattering into pieces._

She succeeded in putting distance between them little by little, every day more. But Street was stubborn, and when he loved, he loved all the way through. He kept trying and trying, and Chris kept refusing him every time, but that little game was becoming exhausting. For both of them, she suspected.

But could she tell Street the truth? Could she tell him how frightened she was about the profound love he made her feel?

Chris' answer was no.

How could she explain to him she was doing all that only for him? That she had to push him away to not let him running the risk to waste all he fought so hard for in the last months of his life? How could she let him risk to lose the family he had dreamed about practically all his life?

She couldn't. Chris needed to keep her heart inaccessible to Street. For his own sake.

_**. . .**_

A chill crept up Street's spine at the impression Chris was looking at him. He turned. She wasn't. Not right at that moment at least, but that disturbing sensation didn't go away. A little dizziness accompanied the movement of his head, and his heart started beating out of control.

_Come on, Jim, dominate your senses_, he ordered himself. _You know the drill, just breathe deeply. It's all good_. He focused on those thoughts, but suddenly, the simple gesture of filling is lungs become challenging, and sweat dripped from his forehead. _Should I adjust the AC over?_ Before he moved a single muscle, another shiver invested him. _No, the temperature stays as it is_, he decided.

_I wonder if Chris had noticed my struggles_. Street once more glanced at her through the review mirror, but not a single sign of concern was on her face. He clenched the wheel in his hands, his limbs oddly numb. Before that cursed kiss, Chris would have instantly known he was feeling trapped in the metal tomb that car was becoming to him. To be completely honest, back then Street would have never felt oppressed by sitting in a car with his best friend. But she wasn't his best friend anymore, and her bitter attitude was really starting to take him down.

In the last few weeks, Street tried everything in his power to gain back that connection with Chris, but today, his body declared he could not go on like that anymore. _I give up!_ he had thought just a few minutes prior, after his last attempt to strike up a normal conversation with her fell on deaf ears.

Silence iced Street's heart. He could not give up for real, the affection he had for Chris was too deep-rooted. His hands continued to firmly hold the wheel while the arctic atmosphere penetrated in his bones. His eyes diverted from the LA roads to glance at his side, where Chris sat, look fixed out the window, to land, then, on the review mirror and search for her reflection. Street constantly tried to spot his partner's grave expression, praying any minute that it would change, but it never happened.

"We're here." Those were the words that finally broke that wintry stillness.

Chris' reaction was once again distant. She imperceptibly nodded, and without looking at him, got out of the car.

A heat wave smacked Street as he stepped a foot out of the metal door. As much as he needed to put his nose out of that cramping vehicle, as he did sweltering air burned his lungs for a couple seconds. He was not prepared for that. It was not the kind of warmth he desired to sense.

But finally, the two cops were their destination, and the immense building was ready for them. They just needed to enter from the main door and get the job done. Then, they could finally go back to the HQ and take separate paths.

Chris threw an impatient glare at him, any intention Street could have to spit a joke to ease that tensed atmosphere died in that dreadful look.

While he caught his breath, Street's eyes quickly inspected the surroundings. The numerous windows the house had reverberated the bright sun rays, and every little detail from the roof tiles to the farthest corner of the garden was exceptionally well-kept. _No wonder why someone decided to break in, this place is magnificent_, Street thought, _a little more security though..._ The sound of Chris' voice clearing abruptly took him back to the reality.

A deafening silence welcomed the two of them more at every step they made toward the entrance. The scent of the garden's flowers penetrated in Street's nostrils, carried by a blow of tepid wind. At his side, the ice block his former best friend was; it would have taken much more than that gentle breeze to melt her heart.

Suddenly, another smell reached Street's nose; it was the unmistakable smell of blood. A shiver run down his spine. Immediately, the two SWAT officers exchanged a look. Something wasn't right, the door was ajar.  
Street's hand dropped down to his tight to grab his gun, and Chris mimed him. They imperceptibly nodded to each other, a silent agreement they were ready to get in on the action. _Like old times_, Street thought. Like when the words weren't needed because they could read each other's mind, and not like now where the words feared to be spoken between them.

A few steps inside, a man laid face down on the ground. Chris knelt, sensed his pulse, and looked up to Street. Her look was clear, it was a corpse. Mr. Reel was not going to give them the information Hondo demanded. But that was not their main issue. Now, they had to catch who did that, especially if they were still in the property.

Chris promptly took the radio in her hand to follow the protocol and call for backup. That was the right course of action, but before she could even open her mouth, a noise from the other room drew the two SWAT officer's attention.

Side by side, they started to follow the blood traces and slink to were the noise came. Then another crashing sound, and right after, a dreadful quiet. Chris and Street locked eyes for an instant before turning the corner.

Another loud noise; the echo of a gunshot. A fierce pain hit Street and blinded his senses for an instant. Then a thump resounded, taking him back; a door just closed behind them.

Following that frantic moment, the stillness of a snow day in the desert surrounded the two cops. Now, in Street's soul there was only silence, pain and fear.

_**. . .**_


	2. Chapter 2

The door slammed closed, making Chris' body quiver while its loud noise resounded between the sterile walls of that small room.

"Damn it!" she stroke the steel door. Instant cold penetrated in her body as the hits reverberated in her bones.

Chris threw a rapid glance around. _This must be some kind of a bunker, or panic room, or something alike_, she thought. The area couldn't be larger than three square meters, four at the most. No windows, only one entrance -or exit in their case- which she hit again with all her force, uselessly.

A metallic cough reached Chris' ears; it was a fan stopping. _The air ventilation just went down, _she realized while the white walls of reinforced concrete made the atmosphere even more clamping in there.

Little drops of sweat dripped down her forehead, not only for the already raising temperature. The last thing she wanted was to be confined in that limited space alone with Street. Not after all her efforts to push him away, to bury down her real feelings for him.

Chris scanned the place to take stock of the situation. At the wall opposite to the door there was a bed, next to it, a small table. Her eyes ignored Street's figure standing in the way while they frantically moved around. In the corner, a toilet right next to a sink. At the other end of the cramped room, a kitchenette and a puny fridge. _All things useful to survive in here, but nothing that can actually serve to get us out_, she acknowledged while letting out a sound sight.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then stubbornly made one last attempt to open the door. The sturdy contact with the cold steel reddened Chris' hands, and a wave of pain invested her, but she gritted her teeth. She _needed_ to get them out of there at any cost.

But that wasn't the right way. At the end, she had to admit it. "The radio doesn't work, and I have no signal," Chris said, glancing at her phone. "We're trapped here."

"We may have bigger problems." Street's grave voice made her heart stop, and Chris had not the courage to turn to him right away.

Despite everything that was going on between the two of them, she could still read her former best friend perfectly, and it didn't take long for her to understand something was seriously wrong with him. Her brain, though, could not immediately process Street's call for help and continued to search for a way out.

When Chris finally turned to face her partner, her look laid on a pale figure barely standing straight on his own two feet. Street's distressed eyes broke the contact with hers to lower on his left side which he was holding in his hands. At that moment, Chris could almost hear the sound of both their hearts pounding.

Her focus still on trying to escape from that awkward situation, Chris didn't instantly realize what was going on. But then, Street mutely showed her his palm.

Blood.

She froze. Blood tainted Street's hands; red soaked his shirt. _The gunshot_, she recalled, eyes fixed on the stain expanding on her partner side. _Street was hit_. The air stopped halfway down Chris' throat.

"Okay." She forced herself to put it together. "Let me take a look." Her orders pronounced clearly while she softly grabbed hold of Street's shoulders to guide him to the bed. His meekly attitude surprised Chris. _Has the shock kicked in yet?_ she asked herself.

A step, then another, and Street's legs hinted to give way under him, but Chris was there for him. Moving the hesitant third step, the familiar smell of her partner's sweat and the alarming stench of blood mixed in her nostrils. All of a sudden, she realized that was the closest the two of them had been in the last few weeks.

They advanced only one more foot, then Street could finally allow his body to sit on the mattress, a pillow between his back and the concrete wall. Chris' focus was now all about stopping her hands from shaking and on hooking the calm she lost the moment her brain recognized that red stain on Street's side as blood.

A grimace of pain cracked Street's face as soon as she lifted his shirt to determine the real entity of the wound. An almost imperceptible growl came from him and didn't escape Chris' ears when she laid her hands on his torso. _I'm sorry_, she would say, but the words didn't come out.

"Bullet went from side to side," Chris said. _That's good,_ she thought, appealing to her first aid training.

A wince accompanied by another suffocated growl jolted Street's body under her touch. Chris' heart clenched as she controlled a shudder too.

"Hold on, I'm almost done." Her hands persisted in inspecting his torso. _His stomach must be intact, or he would know_, she thought. _That goes for his lung as well, or he would not breathe so well_. She stopped, glanced at him, and controlled another little shiver. He was not exactly breathing that well at all, but it could not be a punctured lung. Ruled out.

"Chris," he whispered, their faces an inch from each other. The last time they were so close, the irreparable happened.

She looked back down, her hands soaked in blood. Chris needed to keep her full attention on her examination. _The bullet must miss his spleen too, or there would be_ _even more blood_.

"It seems no vital organ has been hit, you should be fine," she declared. _He would be fine_, she silently prayed.

"Chris..."

"Shh," she stopped him. "Lay down now; I got this." She helped Street in a more comfortable position on the bed, and took off his shirt. Her hands grazed his chest, and a moan escaped from his mouth. "Press this on the wound." Chris put a towel on his skin and took his hand in hers to place it on the wound. In that engaging connection their heartbeat matched. For a moment, the time stopped, the fear faded, the pain instantaneously disappeared, and all uncertainties were gone.

"Chris, there is something you should know," Street tried again, but she chose once more to ignore him.

_Damn it, Street, you are not dying! _She thought, refusing to look at him in the eyes while shaking away the sweet emotion that just awakened in her. _I don't want to discuss your feelings now!_

_Nor mine..._

Suddenly, a whine took Chris' attention back on what she was doing. The pressure she was applying to his partner's wound was a little too intense, and that acknowledgment made her heart skip a beat. She was hurting him. Again. She immediately retracted and went to search for the first-aid kit she remembered she saw somewhere.

Chris' heart started to pound uncontrollably. How could she continue with her glacial attitude to put distance between them if her heart ached so much seeing him like that? She needed to find a solution, and fast, or she didn't guarantee what would happen.

_**. . .**_

The loudness of the gunshot echoed in Street's mind every time he closed his eyes to escape the pain in his side. That imaginary sound made him wince, but what resounded even louder in his soul was the thump of the door closing and trapping them in that cramped room. Breathing became harder, maybe for the pain or perhaps for the shock, or even for the turned off air ventilation. In that cold silence, interrupted only by those fearful auditory memories, Street knew that sensation could only worsen.

Chris' hands moved carefully on his side. Her touch was gentle but detached at the same time. It reminded Street of when he worked in the armory on those fragile and delicate pieces of equipment. And now, he was the frail thing needing repair, and Chris appeared to be a mechanic more than a nurse for him.

"Chris-" Street demanded for her attention, but without a warning, a burning sensation invaded him. She was pouring disinfectant on his wound, and it was not a pleasant experience. He held his breath till the sensation belatedly dissipated, he could not appear weak to her eyes.

The first-aid kit was opened on the bed right beside Street. Chris' eyes shifted from it to the wound, never going up to meet her partner's. As she settled the gauze in position and applied a considerable pressure to his injured side, Street greeted his teeth.

_Men up, Jim,_ he imposed to himself._ This is nothing you can't handle. She just needs to make sure the bleeding stops. Come on!_

Then, when Chris fixated the dressing on his skin with some medical tape, Street exhaled soundly. He had held his breath for the whole duration of the procedure, now and then failing to control some light whines. Chris, instead, had not emit a single sound till she finished her job.

"I'm done, you can breathe now." Her voice was not as reassuring as he hoped it would be. "You'll need a doctor, but this should hold till the guys find us."

"Thanks..." Street nodded, unsuccessfully searching for her eyes. "But, Chris, there is something you should really know," he panted.

"Not now. Save your strength." Without taking the talk any further, she helped him put the shirt back on.

Her voice was cold, but the cautious touch of her hands on his body was the most relieving thing in the world. Street stopped shaking. What was awkward was that he didn't even know he was shaking until Chris assured he stopped. Actually, the temperature in the room was pretty high, Street could tell from the hot air painfully penetrating his lungs and from the little sweat drops insistently descending from Chris' forehead, but that little, warm gesture was much needed and appreciated.

Their eyes finally met, there was pain in Chris'. Street couldn't entirely decode her look, but _that_, that was pain. He sensed it under his skin.

"No... Chris," he muttered as she turned her back on him.

"Don't worry. I'll find a way to get us out of here." She interrupted him again and avoided once more to face him, quickly moving away from the bed he was now laid on.

Street heavily rested his tired body on the pillow and put all his focus on steadying his breath. _I can't stand confined spaces,_ was what he was trying to say to her, but she would not listen. His throat already started closing. _I can't do this... _He started softly panting, knowing that sooner more than later Chris would have no other choice than acknowledge his sorrow.

Street shut his eyes. _Happy thoughts, Jim,_ he muttered to himself, but the pain he felt in his side didn't let him focus. Chris' still cold attitude didn't help as well.

He only needed his best friend back.

Chris had always been the one who supported him in everything. Since he met her, she had not left him alone in his trouble once. Not a single once till that infamous night, till _that_ happened. And although at that moment she was physically there with him, Street felt alone. Nausea stroke him hard to control, but he hid that from his former best friend.

It was already hard enough to admit that secret -a secret he had never revealed to anyone in his life- out loud without his interlocutor continuously shutting him down. Street knew why Chris kept doing that, she feared he would talk about his other secret. But his hidden love for her wasn't a secret anymore, if it has ever been. Street suspected Chris had known about his real feelings for her from the moment they met, and eventually, he was sure she knew about them now, after _that _night.

His other secret instead, was something Chris would never expect to hear from his mouth.

Quickly, the pain in Street side sharpened and made breathing even more challenging. He never had any problem in crowding in Black Betty with his colleagues and friends, nor he had any in crawling in narrow and limited spaces if it was for catching a bad guy. In those moments, he had a scope, a mission to focus on. But now?

Street was just helplessly waiting, and he didn't know when or if someone was going to take him out of there. That thought awakened his childhood fears, and he didn't know how long it would take till he lose control.

The blood loss had already weakened him, and Chris' bitter silence only made his desire to sleep more tempting. With his heart heavy, Street closed his eyes for a moment.

_"Miss Halley! Take me out of here! Please!" 14 year old Street cried from inside the narrow closet. The air started to become thin in there, the walls seemed to close on him and make the space even more cramping._

_"Please, please, Miss Halley! I won't do that ever again. I promise!" His throat started to obstruct, his stomach to turn. The steps he thought he just heard, approaching to finally free him -he hoped- revealed to be only the thumping of his own heart._

_"I'm sorry, but please, get me out of here!" Street desperately howled. Barely breathing, he knocked with all his strength on door. Nothing. No one. He started hitting the wood with his hands, his shoulder, and then his knees till they started bleeding._

_"Please, get me out of here..." he cried again, hopelessly curled on the floor. "Please... I'm sorry..."_

Street eyes abruptly popped open. A loud gasp filled his lungs; his chest hurt while inflating. He frantically looked around. The walls approached him. The room was spinning. The air stopped halfway his throat, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

_**. . .**_

"Nothing! We're trapped here..." Chris muttered.

"No. No." Street's voice seemed like coming from hell. "I need to get out of here. I can't- I can't-"

Before turning to him, Chris breathed deeply. To sustain his pained look and remain impassive was too challenging. But at the end, she didn't need to turn because Street had gotten up from the bed and had stumbled toward the door, starting to knock strenuously on it.

"Hey, no. No. You should not get up." Her tone strict, Chris tried to take Street back to bed.

"I can't stay here! I can't!" With an unexpected rush, he rebelled to her touch and kept on hitting the metal.

Chris froze. Before her eyes there was the sweat and shaking ghost of her partner. "Okay, Street, calm down. It will all be alright."

"I need to get out of here! Out... of... here..." he panted and whined, and then slightly bent over and holding his side.

"Hey, don't worry. Hondo and the others should know we are missing by now. And as soon as they notice our cell phones and radios don't work they'll be here to cut us loose." Chris fought hard to hook the calm for him, even though her words didn't have the hoped effect. "But now, you have to lay back down."

"I can't stay here..." Street collapsed on the ground, the head in his hands, the back rested on the wall. His eyes were full of something Chris had never seen in them before.

"You are in shock, you need to go back to bed." She approached him again, her heart painfully beating. "Come on. You must rest now."

The rhythm of Street's breath increased relentlessly, and in the silence of the room, the thumps of his heart hurriedly beating were almost audible from the distance.

"Let me at least check on the status of the bleeding, okay?" Chris ducked by him and reached her hands out to lift his shirt, but in a sudden burst, he went curling up in a corner.

"Don't touch me!" Street yelled, his voice packed in confusion and fear. "Don't... don't..." he whimpered, hiding his face from her.

Chris' stomach cramped painfully; Street's cries cracked her soul. Her first instinct was to hug him tight and whisper in his ear that all would be fine, but how could she do that if didn't let him any near him?

She moved a step toward him, but he clenched in himself even more. Chris hesitated, her hands started to shake. She had accomplished what she worked for in the past few weeks; a wall has been erected between the two of them.

But now, how to break that damn wall down and help her best friend in this time of desperate need?

_**. . .**_


	3. Chapter 3

A persistent ringing rose above everything else in Street's ears. The walls moved before his eyes, the room got smaller every second. _Stop! Where am I? Why am I alone here?_ _No! Wait... am I alone?_ The constant sound of someone breathing beside him reached his brain, but Street could not focus on who it was.

"Get me out of here... Get... Me... Out..." Street's voice fatigued to leave his throat as the air barely passed through it. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He hugged himself closer, the cold in his bones remarking the loneliness he felt. "Please. Please! Get me out..."

Suddenly, a shadow approached him, causing his heartbeat to skyrocket and his arms to tighten his grip on his knees. The tail of his eye caught the movement of someone reaching out for him, the rhythm of his breath fastened and he covered his ears. "No. No. No..."

Echoing in his mind now was the sound of someone crying. Salty drops marked his cheeks; was it sweat? Were those tears? No doubt then that it was him who was crying. And he was shaking too, or was the room that was shaking? And how could the air burn his lungs so much while his heart was that frozen? Why that familiar voice in the background of his brain seemed so close and so distant at the same time?

_How? Why? Why... Oh, please get me out!_

All around Street blurred. Air rasped his closed throat. He whined. Rebelled. Panted. And then, he just gave up to the fear.

**. . .**

The smell of blood, sweat and tears stained the sterile, hot atmosphere of the room. The sight of her partner all clammed up like that tormented Chris' soul. How could he so desperately cry for help and yet refuse it when she tried to approach? At that very moment, all she desired was to comfort him and to be reassuring. But how, since she was sure of nothing?

"Come on. Don't be a baby." Chris' heart clenched, but she imposed herself to use a strict tone; Street needed to be forced to accept her help. "I promised I would have your back on the job, no matter what. And that's exactly what I'm doing, so now let me-"

"Don't! You stay away from me!" Street howled. Despite there must have been at least 90 degrees in that place, his arm hair stood up, and his body kept quivering.

"Okay, okay." Chris retracted. "Calm down, it's alright." Her heart kept skipping beats every time he cried out something. Could the sorrow she was experiencing now for that refusal be equal to the pain she gave him cutting their friendship the way she did? _Even if it was half of what I'm feeling now_, she thought, _I harmed him more than I could even imagine_.

Under Chris' s overpowered look, Street kept panting loudly and quickly. His eyes wandered around, and his blue lips stood out in his more and more pale face.

_Gosh, this is nothing like the shock for the shot_, Chris realized, _he is having a panic attack!_ _How could I not notice? But how can he have such a reaction? _She inhaled deeply, her wheels turning fast till a sudden realization hit her.

"Street?" She made him look at her in the eyes. "Street, are you _claustrophobic_?"

Tears filled Street's eyes, and he seemed about to stop breathing. Then he just hugged himself tighter and buried his face in his knees while shaking like a leaf. "I'm sorry... I need to... I'm sorry... but please, get me out..."

_I can't..._ Chris wordlessly sat near him, her hands kept trembling and her chest aching. She must to do something for him. But what? In the last few weeks, she did all she could to keep him distant, and now, right now that he needed her the most, she succeeded.

Street didn't want her any near him.

Chris laboriously swallowed, that was never what she really wanted. She had lied to him and tried to lie to herself too for all that time. She said she didn't want them to be friends anymore, but it wasn't true. She needed her best friend now more than ever. Street could not give up on her like she did on him.

But in that moment, the real issue wasn't even their cracked relationship, it was his life. Street was risking his life for a panic attack, and Chris couldn't help him. She kept staring at him, her hands hitching. A shiver run down her spine when he looked up to her, the look of terror on his ghostly face.

_Wait, but I can help him_. A thought lightened Chris' mind, and without reflecting further she stretched out toward him.

**. . .**

Street's head was spinning, and the walls of the already small room appeared to close on him. The air fatigued to reach his lungs, being too hot to breathe anyway. Sweat drops multiplied on his forehead, but still, a mysterious cold penetrated deep in his bones and made him shiver uncontrollably.

With his head light but his body heavy, a sudden realization stroke his clouded mind: he was about to faint.

But right before Street gave up definitively, Chris took his cheeks in her hands, and out of the blue, she laid her delicate lips on his cold ones. Just like that, all the fear disappeared, all the pain instantaneously vanished. Without thinking, he seconded his instinct to abandon himself to her touch and reciprocate the kiss.

That contact felt like water in the desert. Chris' touch warmed Street's freezing body, her sweet taste wiped away the nausea. He desired it lasted forever, holding his breath, holding the moment. But instead, Street had to retract and catch is breath. His heart was still thumping, but not for the panic anymore.

As soon as his mind cleared, he looked up at his partner, eyebrow raised. "Why did you do that? I-I thought you didn't -"

"I just needed you to stop hyperventilating." Chris' cheeks flamed with red colors, but she tried to blame it to the heat. "It means nothing," she coldly stated. "Nothing more than a colleague helping another."

It was not true, Street felt it. He saw it in her eyes; she could not lie to him looking him straight like that. And even if it was nothing for her, how could she keep deceive him like that? That was cruel an insensitive, and Chris was one of the kindest people he ever met.

"It worked, right?" She continued, not sustaining his look anymore. "You are breathing normally now, aren't you already feeling better?"

"Yeah, it... worked." Once more, Street hugged himself while a wave of shame invested him. He just panicked in front of Chris. He showed her his deepest fears, and worst thing, he just fell in the trap of believing in their connection again. And again, as he should expect, he got burned.

He got all wrong for the umpteenth time. How could he be so stupid?

"Would you let me check on your wound now?" Chris' tone was forcefully detached. Or maybe it was unconcerned for real, Street didn't know anymore.

Chris' hand reached out for his side, and Street suddenly remembered the physical pain that afflicted him. With all that emotional turmoil, he almost forgot the bullet that penetrated his body from side to side. He slowly nodded, Chris' behavior disoriented him even more than the blood loss. A moment prior, Street had the demonstration that Chris still cared even more than she wanted to admit, so why she kept lying to him?

Betrayal crossed his eyes and staked his heart. Anew, the so familiar loneliness smacked him.

**. . .**

The heat in the room was almost breathtaking with the air thick and suffocating, but Street was breathing better now. That little trick worked for real, Chris herself could not believe it. His rhythmic and soft wheezes ricocheted between the walls. Her partner was a little calmer now, but still clutched at himself.

The kiss made Chris' heart pound, but that was not the moment to brood about her action nor about the way Street completely gave up to her initiative. The priority was to make sure the bleeding on his side was under control.

Even if Street's eyes lowered again to the floor, the look he threw at her when she cut him off, saying -lying to him- that their second kiss meant nothing was impressed in her mind.

Chris inhaled deeply, forcing her emotions to stay out of the way. Street seemed paralyzed, so she offered him her hand. "Let's go, come back to bed," she encouraged him.

Oh..._ Come_ back to bed? As like... with her? What a laps Chris had! At those words, Street's white face colored in shades of red, and suddenly, unease burned her cheeks too. _Not the right word choice, _she realized.

_And maybe it wasn't even the right move to kiss him like that_... Chris thought while forcing herself to support her partner's shy gaze. _Why am I so worried now? What could I do? He needed to come back to himself, and that worked. Or not? _

Her whole body was in flames, and not just for the increasing temperature nor for the burning air. In that room, there must have been a hundred degrees by then, but the unease that hit Chris was caused by that kiss which moved something inside her. Once more. Like that night, she could stop denying it now.

_It means nothing_, she had said, then as now. But it was not true. Not then, not now. Again and again, she had lied to him and lied to herself. That kiss meant everything. For the brief moment their lips were connected, the time stopped, and everything was all right.

That must mean _something_.

"Street." Fighting with herself, Chris kept up a her severe tone. "I need to check on your wound. C'mon, lay down on the bed."

"I need to stay here, please." Street slowly lifted his face to meet her eyes. "Just... please..."

A shiver flowed down Chris' spine when she realized there still was pure terror in her partner's look. And then Street glanced down to his left, there was a grate there with a little fan in it.

"That thing is not working, Street. To sit by it it's completely useless," Chris said more kindly, a maternal gaze on her face. "Come on, you will be more comfortable on that mattress."

"Please, it... helps..." he bubbled, his lower lips trembling and his eyes filling with tears again. She had never seen him like that, Street's fear was tangible and his uneasy clear. If his claustrophobia was that severe, how was it possible that she never notice any sign of it?

"O-okay, okay. You can stay there." Chris surrendered to his begging look. "But I still need to check on the wound, okay?" she knelt by him and reached her hand out, but she didn't touch him till he gave her his consent.

Street hesitantly uncurled, his legs rested on the floor and his arms along his body to give her the space to act. At that point, one quick glance down to his side was enough for Chris to understand that the bleeding started over.

"I need to change the dressing. I told you that you should not move around that much." Her tone a perfect mix of rigor and compassion, she unsheathed a warm smile.

"I'm sorry..." Street lowered his look again, not sustaining hers anymore.

"Sorry for what?" A wave of affection overwhelmed Chris, it was impossible for her to not fall for Street while he was so vulnerable and defenseless.

"For... this, for being so-"

"You don't have to apologize. You just have to let me take care of you."

"Are we-" Street searched for her eyes, "Are we good now?"

Hearing that question, Chris' heart jumped. She didn't know how to answer, so she decided to focus entirely on medicating the wound. Her hands quickly reached the bottom of Street's shirt and carefully started to lift it up.

The clothes removal reveled an expanding stain of blood that underlined the outline of Street's abs and pectorals. Chris fingers slowly grazed his toned chest muscles till they reached the red-soaked dressing he had on. Street's cold skin was an utter mystery in that fiery atmosphere.

An awkward silence wounded them, and every time they made contact with each other, Chris felt a light shock flow between their bodies. Even with all her efforts, she couldn't deny that there was something between the two them.

"It should be good now," Chris said, a forced grin on her face, "if you can stop acting this stupid."

"I'm sorry, I can't control it. I just... can't." His look fixed on the useless fan, Street's hands started shaking again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Chris sat a couple of feet from him, they both casually looking to the wall ahead of them.

The control she previously had on her emotions was gone. Now, her intent of keeping him far-away from her heart was overshadowed by his necessities. Chris needed to keep her partner calm.

First step, figure out how he managed to hide his phobia so well for all those years as a cop and moreover as a SWAT officer. "I never saw you showing any sign of claustrophobia until today. How do you do that with our job?" Chris asked, glancing at him.

Street's chest lifted in a failed attempt to take in a deep breath. Chris knew the expression he had on his face way too well, he was evaluating if to open up with her or not. How came that when she wanted him to keep the distance he was desperate to tell her everything about his life, and now that she needed him to lay on her, he hesitated?

Chris painfully admitted how wrong she had act with him lately. Her heart fluttered as Street's silence penetrated deep in her soul.

"When I'm on the job," he finally spoke up, "I have nothing to fear. I know what I'm doing, and I know I can do it. Plus, I always have someone I can trust to help me whenever I need." He looked up to her, a melancholic smile on his face. "Out there, my heart beat for you, guys. I can't stop to think about myself when your lives are at stake."

"I told you, I'll always have your back on the job. You have nothing to fear here with me, I promise. Nothing has changed."

"Stop lying, Chris!" A grimace appeared on Street's face and he took his hand to his side.

Chris experienced that pain as it was her own. The truth of Street's words hit the mark, she had been lying for a long time now.

"Everything changed between us, and these, these mixed signals you send me... it hurts, Chris. I'm so confused..."

Those words were like a punch in her stomach. Chris knew that by saying he was hurt Street was not referring to the bleeding hole he had in his side. He felt she had been playing with his heart.

"I'm doing my best." Chris forced herself to look at him in the eyes. The mere though she caused him even more pain take her breath away. "What do you expect me to do? This is an impossible situation!"

"Be honest. Like you always have been to me. Please, don't stop now just because I-"

"I am honest." Chris interrupted him.

"Keep repeating it to yourself..." Street's respiratory rate fastened again. That subject was not the best way to keep him calm, Chris realized.

"Look, while we're here, I'll do whatever you need, okay? Let's forget about everything that happened before. I'll be here for you till that door opens again, I promise."

Street closed his eyes to focus on his breath, his face turning ghost-white again for the severe blood loss he was experiencing.

"Just relax, I'll take care of you," Chris said. "I'm here for you."

Panic, shock, dehydration, and now the tangle of emotion their relationship was; Chris didn't know how to help her partner. _Only a few weeks ago, it was all so natural between us,_ she thought, _why did it all have to be so complicated now?_

Chris reached her hand out to touch her partner. She hesitated for a moment, holding her breath. Then she reluctantly retracted. The instinct of rubbing circles on Street's back to support him and calm him down was strong, but the awkwardness between them was even stronger.

**. . .**


	4. Chapter 4

The grave thumping of Street's heart marked a rhythm in the deafening stillness of the room. Every pant that Street let out contributed in making the air thinner; every thought that crossed his mind added a new worry to the mix. He laid on the wall and fought to hold on to his last energies, but his muscles were heavy, and his chest, as his whole left side, was in flames. Not the hope that Hondo and the others were coming to save him, nor Chris' presence beside him were enough to alleviate that dreadful sense of suffocation.

_I'm here with you_, Chris kept saying to him. Every time, her voice was full of care and affection, a tone she hasn't used with Street in ages; a tone that tasted like home. So tempting. But could Street afford the luxury to believe Chris? Could he cuddle her reassuring presence without shielding his heart from an expected defection once the emergency situation ceased? If only all that was ever going to pass... If only he was ever going to get out of there alive...

Suddenly, the pain in Street's chest sharpened, and the air rebelled to his command to penetrate his throat and descend into his lungs. _Come on, Jim. Come on..._ _fight this. You can fight this._

With the tail of his eye, Street saw Chris getting up. His blurred mind couldn't shake off the thought that she was already dishonoring her word and leaving him alone. Tears filled his tired eyes, and Street imposed himself to not follow Chris' departure. It was too painful. But Chris wasn't going anywhere, she only went to the fridge, and straight away, she was back to Street with a bottle in her hands.

"Here," Chris took the lid off and handed the water to him. "This will help with the dehydration. Come on, drink," she kindly encouraged him.

_Oh, come on, Jim! Where did you think she would go? We're trapped here..._ But in Chris' come back to him there was more than the mere constriction to stay together, Street couldn't help but believe so, he couldn't help but hope so. He looked up to Chris with watery eyes. He had no other choice but stop fighting his emotions and show to his partner all his weaknesses and sorrow.

When Street stretched out to take Chris' offer, he had to concentrate hard just to grab hold of the bottle. The little container was cool and slick, and Street could barely sustain it, his hands shaking under the unexpected weight. His muscles started to fail him while he approached the trembling bottle to his mouth, fighting to aim it in the right direction.

The warm contact with Chris' hands instantaneously alleviated Street's struggle. Chris was there for him, like she promised, holding his hands and helping him taking the plastic bottle to his lips. A comforting silence accompanied her thoughtful gesture, her skin tepid and sticky contrasting with his cold once. _Sticky for the emotion or for the heat?_ Street couldn't help but ask himself, but quickly shrugged the thought off. He could not trust his instinct in this matter.

Once the panic attenuated, Street started to suffer the impossible temperature that was in the room. And for God's sake, that place was already clamping enough! He felt like split in two, fighting both the bitter cold expanding from his insides and the blazing heat that struck him from the outside. It must be that damn suffocating, hot air that only made things harder. Sweat stains were clear on both their shirts, hairs matted on both their foreheads. The heat was undeniable, and to make matters worse, it contributed in making Street's body bleeding out faster.

The cool water poured down his throat accompanied by Chris essential help, attenuating his soreness. In an outburst of pride, Street even contemplated to refuse Chris' touch and not fall for her kindness, fearing it would not last for long. He wished he could act tough, but he was too weak to even think to do all by himself.

After a couple of long sips, Street found the strength to detach the bottle from his lips. As soon as Chris took it away, he heavily rested his head on the hard concrete while dizziness bothered him. Chris' blurred figure moved away from him once more, it was not easy to control his feelings now.

_She'll be here till that door opens, she said, and then? _Street thought_. What will happen then? Will she go back being the ice queen she was in the last few weeks? I won't stand that... _His throat started closing again. _NO!_ He shook that thought off; he could not think about that now. Not now.

"It's been a while already." Chris glanced down at her watch, then she sat back on the floor, always a couple of feet from Street. "Hondo must have figured out that something is wrong with our assignment," she continued. "The guys should be here soon enough. You'll see. Everything is gonna be just fine." Now and again, there was a little something in her voice, a little veil that kept her detached from him.

_Hondo... The guys... Something wrong with us..._ _Everything will be... fine?_ Chris' words echoed from the distance as Street's energies suddenly abandoned him and all went from blurred to black in an instant.

"Hey, no! Stay with me!" Chris feeble voice barely tickled his ears. "Come on, Street! Open your eyes to me. Come on."

Before he knew, Street was back at Miss Halley's place, back in that little, suffocating closet. "No... Miss Halley... please... no..." He muttered, using his last strength to toss around.

"Street? Street." Chris gently grabbed him by his shoulders. "Who is Miss Halley? Tell me." She caressed his face, wiping the sweat from his cheeks and forehead. "Come on, talk to me. I'm right here for you. Stay with me please. Stay with me."

Street's eyes fluttered open. Chris' scent came to his nose before he could even focus on the figure in front of him. That proximity should have worsened his claustrophobia attack, but actually, it only made breathing easier. Chris voice was once again full of affection and Street finally he could truly feel that she was there for him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's good. Keep looking at me, just like this," Chris whispered, a relieved smile appeared on her reddened face. "Don't you dare do that ever again." She sat back, this time a little closer, but always distant enough to not make Street feel constricted.

Street's chest ached as he tried to inhale, and exhaling was not that much easier either. The fatigue had him, and to keep his eyes open was challenging, but he could not give up. He could not, if only, for her. He had to stay awake _for her_.

"Don't you want to tell me why are you this scared about confined spaces?" Chris asked with a calm voice, her eyes fixed on the wall in front of them. "You just called for a woman, Miss Halley. Was she one of your foster moms?"

Street nodded, the words not coming out of his throat. He knew what Chris was trying to do, to make him talk and keep him awake. If she was truly interested in what he had to say, he wasn't all that certain, but anyway, he appreciated the gesture.

"Was that woman mean to you?" Chris insisted. She was fighting to not let him fall asleep. That would be dangerous, and they both knew that.

Even though that was not Street's favorite subject, if she wanted so much to talk about it, then maybe he could try. "She was not... that... terrible... " He panted, the air laboriously getting in and out from his lungs. "Except when she put me... on time-out..."

Chris nodded, sympathetically. "I bet she had plenty of occasions to discipline you, didn't she?"

"Except her time out zone was this little closet," Street said in one breath, his heartbeat accelerating at the thought. "She used to lock me in there... And it was so dark... in there, and... and... I was alone and..." With the little strength he had left, he curled again in a ball, his head buried in his knees. Oh, _I was so wrong, I can't do this, I can't talk about this... not even for her..._

"It's okay. It's okay, you're not alone anymore, Street." The touch of Chris' hand on his shoulder made Street wince. "It's alright, I promise." Chris immediately retracted from that contact while her voice cracked. "I would not let anything bad happen to you."

Street hesitantly lifted his head, Chris' smile was right where he needed it to be, her eyes sparkling. But then the room started spinning again, and he had to close his eyes and rest his body against the solid wall. "I'm so tired," he whispered, his limbs abandoning to the floor. "I don't think I-"

"I know, I know, but you can't sleep now." Chris unsheathed a maternal voce, kind and strict at the same time. "I'm sorry, you must hold on a little bit more. Hondo is coming, I know that. You just hang on, and everything will be fine. All right?"

Street gasped, painfully; his body protested against Chris' instructions. He would hang on, he would stay with her. There was nothing he desired more than being with her, but how could he, when breathing, talking, and even thinking was all so hard? His will was strong, but maybe not _that _strong.

Chris moved imperceptibly closer. "Just keep looking at me, and everything will be alright."

"You always... give me orders..." A grin draw on Street's face while he forced his eyes to stay open.

"You always need someone to tell you how to properly behave." Chris smiled back.

**. . .**

In the fiery room, it could be heard a pin drop. The awkwardness between Chris and Street was far from resolved, even though they started to joke around with each other a little bit more. That unbearable heat was slowly melting the ice wall Chris erected between the two of them, and the lighter atmosphere that now surrounded them beat the thick air, tasting like home. It was so sweet having back what they had before the infamous kiss, Chris had to admit that to herself.

Two hours had already passed since they got trapped in that place, isolated from the word, and the third hour was almost in its second half. The thumping of their heart resounded in both their chests, underlining the slow passage of the time. Chris never stopped caring about his partner, but his pale face turned wither every minute, and his side, stained in red, would probably need another bandage change. Unfortunately, they already got short of supplies and Chris could do nothing more for him.

Street's heavy gasps drew Chris' attention; his forehead was already covered in a million little drips and with the temperature in the room not hinting to stop heighten, there was no chance the situation could get any better soon. She was panting too, the oxygen in the room would not last much longer, and if their teammates didn't show up ASAP, she knew the two of them would extinguish like candles.

"Water. Please..." Street's voice fatigued to reach Chris' ears. The time for him was running down even faster than she had estimated.

Her throat was dry too, and Chris noiselessly moved, aiming for the plastic bottle in the little fridge. Dizziness hit her from the sudden get up, but resolved when she ducked back to her partner. "Here." This time he wasn't even able to lift his hands and grab the water bottle, so she had to hand-feed him.

Street avidly swallowed the precious liquid, risking to chock. "Slow down," Chris maternally warned him. "Take small sips."

He softly coughed, water droplets on his chin. A silent _thanks_ shone thought his exhausted look.

Now, Chris could take the chance to drink too. The refreshing fluid descended her throat, feeling like she didn't take a sip of water in ages. Some cool drips descended from her lips to her neck, not having the time to land on her shirt before evaporating.

"I'm sorry..." Street's shaky voice interrupted her relief.

"I thought we already discussed that. You don't have to apologize for this situation. This is not your fault."

"I'm sorry for what happened that night." In a single breath, he took off _that_ subject.

"No. No, please don't go there." Chris sat back on the floor, clenching her hands in fists.

"You didn't let me say it before, not the way I should." Street looked at her with begging eyes. "And I'll say it till you believe me. I'm sorry."

"Look, it was all my fault, okay?" Her eyes shifted to stare at the wall in front of her. "I was drunk, I should not let you think..."

"Let me... think what?" Street's panting was so heavy, and Chris' own breath was becoming grave too.

"We can't go there, Street. Please." She looked up, tears filling her eyes. "Not now."

"Just... You just do me a favor, Chris..."

Straight away, she turned her attention back to him. _I would do anything_, she thought while her partner's ghost-like appearance ripped her soul apart. "You are not giving me your last wishes, are you?" Chris forced a smile.

Street leveraged on his precarious arms to lift his body and look her in the eyes. "You need to be honest with yourself. Live your love." Street wheezed, his expression straight. "Don't always over-think, but listen to your heart. Do it for me."

Undeniable sincerity sparkled in Street's misty eyes, his lips reinvigorated by the drink he just had. Chris' heart was hanging on his words, and this time she didn't over-think. Actually, she did not think at all.

Out of the blue, Chris rested one hand on Street's shoulder and the other one on the back of his neck. While he completely abandoned to her embrace, Street's lips, soft despite the long exposition to that extreme heat, pursed at the contact with Chris'.

**. . .**

The pound of Street's heart echoed in his chest at Chris' unexpected advance. The contact with her balmy lips awakened his numbed senses. Everything Street had ever desired since the day he first saw her at the HQ was there at his fingerprints.

Well, if only he wasn't half-panicking and half-dying... A sudden thought crossed his mind, was she doing that because he was about to die? _But who cares_ _why, as long as she stays this close to me..._

Street inhaled deeply with his nose, and Chris' sweet scent took posses of his nostrils. Her fingers run through his sweaty hair while the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder invited him to give in. And so, he gave in. He was too out of strength to fight that impulse.

He must kiss her back. Even if that was the last thing he did, Street needed her like oxygen. Well, that could easily be the last thing he did, actually, but that thought was not that frightening as it should be. Not anymore. Kissing the love of his life was not such a bad way to die.

Street felt like he was fluctuating in the air. _Can this be a dream? I drifted away without knowing?_ he asked himself. _No._ It couldn't be. That contact was real. Real as the affection that spread from Chris' embrace. Real as their heart matching their beats.

All right, his mind could be clouded and all that, but this time, it was impossible that he misunderstood Chris' real intentions, nor her real feelings. That was a true love kiss, just like in fairy tales, and that love was the only thing that kept him hooked to life.

Unfortunately, they were in the real world, not in fairy tales. It would take more than a kiss -yes, even more than _that_ kiss!- to heal Street from his wound. His energies were coming to an end now, and not his iron will, nor his stubbornness, and not even his desire and his need to stay with Chris could keep Street alive for long.

But now, just there and now, still abandoned in Chris' kind embrace Street felt in heaven. Nothing else mattered. Time was frozen, love was brightening his path, wherever it may lead him...

**. . .**


	5. Chapter 5

The instant Street reciprocated the kiss, Chris' heart exploded in a firework of emotions. That creepy absence of sounds that since a moment prior made every dreadful thought resound heavily in her mind, now, was the ideal frame for that perfect moment.

Enclosed in that passionate connection, Chris wished it never had to end. But suddenly, Street's body quivered in her arms, and he moved one hand to caress her back only to end up clenching her shirt to not fall back and away from her.

Chris felt the last strength abandon her best friend's body. That was her signal she should back off. That perfect moment had to end right there, or she would overstrain him, sucking the life from him. That could not happen. Street had to hold on till their teammates would find them. He _had_ to.

As she gently retracted from the embrace, Chris accompanied Street's body to lean back against the wall. Her eyes dwelled on his figure to not miss any little reaction he could manifest to what she just did. Street heavily abandoned himself back, eyes closed, lips still pursed, and limbs resting on the uncomfortable floor.

"I was not hyperventilating again," Street whispered as a confused expression drawn on his pallid face.

Chris sat close to him and carefully rested her hand on his. "I know," she said, her tone even warmer than the fiery atmosphere around them.

"Why did you do that then?" Hope shone through Street's voice while he looked down to their connected fingers. "Why are you doing this?"

Chris' cheeks went in flames, her heartbeat skyrocketed, and she tightened the grasp on his hand. Then she took a deep breath and looked at him with smiling, watery eyes. "Because I love you, Jim Street."

She finally admitted it. Chris had never thought she could say it out loud, and yet, now that she did it, she couldn't believe how good it sounded.

"This must be a dream..." Street panted. His head laid back to the wall, but a grin cracked his pained expression. "Am I... dead already?"

"You won't die here." A little tear escaped from Chris' control, but she forced herself to put it together.

"You... love me?" Street's goofy smile made his pale face glow.

"Yes. This- this is all true; you were always right about us." Chris said, still fighting with tears. She could not give in, so she inhaled deeply before going on. "That night, the feeling _was_ mutual, but I was... scared.  
"_I still am scared, _Street."

"I'm that... frightening... uh?"

"What I feel is frightening." Chris' heart clenched in seeing Street so weak, the fear of losing him rising above everything else. "This is something I have never felt before, and that, _that_ is terrifying."

"Oh... oh, I was... I am scared too..." Street admitted, finding a little energy to tighten back the grip Chris still had on his hand. "Scared by the idea you would never reciprocate my love; terrified by the thought I ruined our friendship forever." His voice was now low but still very clear. "Chris, I can't lose you; I love you too much. I've always loved you."

"You don't need to tell me that." A melancholic expression draw on Chris' face while another little tear marked her cheek. "I could always read your heart, Street. And the kind of love you inspire in me is so strong and so overwhelming that I could not let myself surrender to it."

"And now... you can now?" Street's hopeful tone made Chris heart beat faster.

"I tried to deny my feelings for you in any way I could, and now I can't go on like this anymore." Chris kept battling hard to prevent tears from pouring down; it was not like her to surrender to her emotion that easily. "But just think about our future," she continued, and as these words left her mouth, her heart stopped. _Please, let him have a future, _she prayed, her eyes lost in his.

" If you love me, my future can't be brighter." Street laid his head back, smirking while exhaustion marked his face.

"Don't you understand? If we are together, we can't be on the same team. And don't even think about lying to the guys. It won't work, and you know that better than anyone."

"I'm so tired of lies..." Street panted. The fact that he was tired was clear to Chris' eyes; he was fatigued to the point he could barely look at her now.

"If things don't end up well between us-"

"Why things should not go as we wish?" Street found unexpected strength to object. "If our love is this- this-"

"I love you more than everything. But I can't give up on the family. And I can't ask you to do that either, not after all you did to become part of it." Their hands still connected, hers could not loosen the tie on his, even if it was colder and more lifeless every minute that passed.

Street's soft whisper caressed her ears. "I will do anything for you."

"That's exactly the problem here." Chris tenderly smiled and wiped his sweated forehead. "You should not renounce to the only family you ever had in your life. Not for me and not for anyone else. It's not fair."

"But I would have you." Street insisted, matching tired eyes with her.

"That's not the same." She thoughtfully caressed his cheek, the hotness of her skin countering the coolness of his. _The shock had definitely kicked in, _she thought in horror.

"It would be... even better..." he said under his breath, hardly controlling another shiver.

"Who's the one that's lying to himself now?" Chris' lips curved in another kind smile. "I can't be the only reason of your life. You need more than me, and you know that."

"Nothing and no one will ever be more than you." His energies slowly ditched Street, and he had to close his eyes again. "You-"

Chris interrupted his objection with another passionate kiss. That was becoming her favorite way to shut him up whenever he was talking too much or he was trying to say something she didn't want to hear.

"Shh, let's just live the moment, okay? We'll talk about this when you stop bleeding out on me."

Street nodded and rested his head on her shoulder. Chris kept holding his lifeless hand, feeling the last bit of strength slowly abandoning his body.

"Come on, guys, where are you?" she muttered to herself, her chest clamping as she was the one suffering from claustrophobia. _I can't lose him._

"Hang on, Street. Do it for me," she said, hugging him. "Jim, Jim, please, I can't lose you," she whispered in his ear and tenderly laid her lips on his sweated forehead. "I need you by my side. Please, please don't leave me now."

Chris could feel Street's heartbeat weakening while the little, fast thumps resonated in his chest, imperceptibly raised by his accelerated breaths. She kept holding him tight to her breast, like she needed him to know her heart was beating for him and for him only. Despite the suffocating atmosphere and the thick air, being that close to him was the only position that allowed her to breath.

**. . .**

The dreadful atmosphere had changed taste. The closed door, the cramping room, and the suffocating air all passed in second place confronted with the big bomb Chris dropped on Street.

_She loves me._ He could not stop repeating it to himself. _She loves me for real._

Chris had admitted that out loud, and now, there was no taking it back. Street would not let her take it back. Not that he had much choice actually, there was a big chance he would not be able to talk to her anymore after that day, after that moment. He was not so slowly losing all his strength, and his body had already stopped to obey his will.

But Street wasn't scared. Not anymore. There, in the thoughtful embrace of Chris' arms, he felt as safe as he had never been in his life. Her comfortable breast welcomed him, and her rhythmic heartbeat lulled him to calm.

_Maybe I can just rest my eyes a little... _Street thought, but Chris was asking him not to. She was begging him to keep his eyes open for her.

"Stay awake. Stay with me," Chris kept repeating, her voice so warm. And her command was his priority, but he was so tired, and the air so thick and hot that burned his lungs.

Street fought with all he had, hooked to her voice, hooked to her heartbeat. Chris' hand held his in such a tender way, and he hated that he could not tight his grip to demonstrate how deeply he felt that affection. He wanted to look at her, it was the most beautiful sight he could wish for, but his eyes were just too tired, and at some point he had to give in to the exhaustion.

**. . .**

The time was running down, Street's feeble gasps and Chris' heavy pants mixed and resounded gravely in the sealed room. The heat was out of control, the sweat was soaking both their bodies, and the blood stain on Street's side seemed any minute wider.

And then, right when Chris was giving up her hopes, all of a sudden, the room quaked and the door deformed.

"Chris! Street! Are you in there?" Hondo's deep voice penetrated through the crack in the soundproofed room.

"Yes! Yes, we're here!" Chris yelled, hope rising in her. Then she gently caressed Street cool and sweat cheek, and whispered in his ear, "You heard that? They are here, we are free."

Breathing was hard, the oxygen in the room almost expired. Chris was already panting speedily when panic took control of her. Street didn't react to her words, _he couldn't react to her words_. "Come on, Street, open your eyes! Stay with me please... stay with me!" she begged, hugging him tighter and gently passing her shaky hands in his hair.

"Is everything oaky in there, guys?" Hondo yells drown out the loud noise of the tools the team was using to cut in the room. "Chris? Street? Are you okay?" he insisted as none of them could answer him.

"Hondo, we need an ambulance here, now!" She shouted with the little energies she still had inside, her voice hurting her throat while coming out. "Street has been shot... He... He lost a lot of blood, h-he's-" she held on Street's body, not wanting to let him go. She could not go on talking, rapidly losing herself too.

Finally and in a loud thump, the door cracked open, and the rest of the SWAT squad rushed into the room to their trapped teammates sides. Indistinct voices were all Chris could hear, and the shocked faces of her friends were the last thing she saw before all went dark.

**. . .**

A warm breeze full with flowers scent pleasantly caressed Street's skin, and the cozy sensation of the thermal blanket wounded him reassuringly. His eyes fluttered open, expecting to find his love before them, but instead they found Hondo's concerned face.

Street's look shifted up to the limpid sky, millions of stars lighting the darkness of the night. _How long have we been trapped in there? _he asked himself. _Wait, when did we get out?_

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." Hondo's contracted lips immediately curved in a reassuring smile, his deep voice reached Street's brain as from the distance.

Focusing was hard, all was blurred around him. Street had to concentrate to distinguish Luca and Tan's worried expression behind his boss' figure. Then Street tried to move his left hand to touch his face, where something was uncomfortably laid on, but a sting pulled him back. He looked up, he was connected to an IV drip, so he lifted the right hand, and tried to look around. But moving was hard too, and his whole body ached.

"It's just an oxygen mask, Street. You need to keep it on." Hondo's calm tone accompanied a firm contact on his upper chest.

"Chris!" Street painfully forced his voice out while his heartbeat raised, and his tirelessly eyes searched for her.

"She's fine. Chris' fine." Hondo moved aside to let him see her. "She's with Deacon now, she only needs some oxygen."

Chris was laid against the wall near the monumental main entrance of the house they were trapped in, apparently for the last few hours. Deacon held an oxygen mask on her face too, and suddenly, she opened her eyes and jumped up, sitting straight.

Relief filled Street's heart, and he laid back, once more out of strength. Concerned expressions reappeared on his teammates' faces; probably they could not see him smiling under the plastic mask. Despite the pain, despite the soreness and the fatigue, Street couldn't help but smile. _Chris is fine_, he could only think.

"Street!" Chris voice reached his ears, even with his eyes closed, he could recognize that voice in a thousand.

Street was tired, his throat sore, and his voice could not get past the oxygen mask. But as soon as her soft hand grabbed his weak one, he found unexpected strength to tight it back. This time he could. He had to; he didn't stand the idea Chris was suffering because of him.

"We need to go now," a stranger's voice echoed in the distance. "Your friend needs a transfusion and an OR as soon as possible."

_A paramedic_, Street concluded, but he didn't care what the man said; he was in heaven just holding hands with Chris.

"I'm going with him." Chris stated, unlocking eyes with Street to look at Hondo for a moment.

Their boss must give his silent assent, and a moment later, Luca and Tan helped the paramedic loading the stretcher Street was resting on into the ambulance. Chris fingers' were still tangled in his, her presence warmed his heart. His teammates' smiles and encouraging looks disappeared behind the closing ambulance doors, but the image of them stayed impressed in Street's mind for long.

Chris was right, he could not give up on his family, the two of them had to find another way to love each other. But then, Chris' words resounded in his mind; _just live the moment_. That was not the time to think about their uncertain future. That was the time to enjoy each other's affection.

"You didn't leave," Street said, his eyes lost in hers.

"I will never, never leave you again. I promise." Chris smile was brighter than the sun, her dark eyes sparkling with kindness.

A warm silence filled the air, their hands still connected in that sweet holding.

"Do you have any allergies?" The paramedic interrupted that moment.

Street slightly shook his head, Chris' sever and worried look on him.

"Anything else that we should know?" the paramedic continued.

Chris' look instantaneously shifted to the monitor Street was connected to. His heartbeat was still fast and irregular, his breath mechanic even if he was being treated with pure oxygen.

"He's claustrophobic," Chris said in a low voice, almost like she didn't want him to hear.

"No. I'm- I'm okay." Street forced his voice out his aching throat. "You are here with me, Chris, and that's enough to make me feel safe everywhere. My world is wider and better with you."

A contagious brightness cracked Chris' apprehensive expression, and their sparkling eyes locked for what it seemed forever.

At that moment, it was just the two of them. There was only that instant and their infinite love.

* * *

**.**

**The End**

**.**

* * *

**_Author's note: _**_I'll stop here. I loved so much writing this story, and surprisingly for me, I really liked exploring Chris and Street's feelings for each other, but this is it. I decided to leave all the paths open for them, so everyone can believe in the ending they want. One thing that is clear in my heart, is that their relationship, whatever they will choose it to be while they try to find their balance again, will be stronger and truer to their souls now. For me, Chris and Street will always have an unbreakable bond which rises above any label anyone may call it with. Their connection can't be wasted._

_Thanks to anyone that took the time to stop by and leave a review or a comment on my story. I hope that I could transmit something with my words, be it move feelings or make you think._

_Thank you so much for being with me till the end._


End file.
